Silent Night, Haunted Night
Shiobhan Clarke, or "Shiv" as everyone called her, was no stranger to the Christmas shift. "Shiv, you've got the 23rd, 24th, 25th, and 26th." Of course she did. For the third year in a row. It seemed like no matter what, Shiv ended up working the holidays. Not that she minded much. She prided herself on her work as a staff nurse, though sometimes the NHS felt as broken as the old hospital itself.
Day 1: December 23, 2024 – The Dead Shift
The Monday shift—December 23rd, 2024—started like any other. "The dead shift," as the nurses whispered. Shiv, practical and experienced, knew that the Christmas holidays tended to bring a quiet stillness over the hospital, almost eerie in its calm. She trudged through the snow, approaching St. Gregory’s Hospital. The old building, a mix of modern wings and crumbling Victorian structures, loomed in the soft snowfall, its revolving doors creaking as if protesting against the cold.
Inside, the warmth greeted her, though a chill still seemed to creep down her spine. The hospital always felt isolated during the holidays. With most staff and patients gone, only a skeleton crew remained—new graduates and the unlucky few. Shiv’s experience made her the de facto leader of the group. As she approached the reception desk, she picked up the handover:
- Room 13: "Strange aroma, too busy to check. Shiv, you know what I mean."
- Heating: "On the blink. Fred can’t get here until the 28th. Wear something warm."
- Patients: "Two discharged, three left. Might be a quiet one—touch wood. See you after the hols! - Gina G."
Shiv smiled wryly. A "dead shift" indeed. The hospital felt emptier than usual, and the first day flew by with little to note, other than the unnerving cold that permeated the halls, and a strange, rhythmic tapping sound that seemed to follow her whenever she walked down certain corridors.
Day 2: December 24, 2024 – Christmas Eve
On Christmas Eve, Shiv decided to wear something festive, hoping to bring a little cheer to the ward. She wanted to brighten up Arthur's day in the men's ward—a charming old patient who'd always been kind to her. But when she went to check his records, they were nowhere to be found. She walked toward his bed (tap, tap, tap), but it was empty. Arthur was gone.
Confused, she asked the night shift about him. "Arthur?" they echoed blankly. "That bed’s been empty since last week." But Shiv knew she had cared for him just the night before. Was she imagining things? Feeling rattled, she brushed it off and carried on with the rest of her duties.
Day 3: December 25, 2024 – Christmas Day
Christmas Day brought an unsettling quiet to St. Gregory’s. The cold seeped deeper into the old hospital’s bones, and the tapping noise persisted. Shiv couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. While making her rounds, she glimpsed a young nurse in a 1950s uniform, wandering the halls. At first, she thought it was a trick of the light, but when a junior nurse asked her, "Did you see her too?" a chill ran down Shiv’s spine.
That evening, as Shiv sat down to update her notes, she found an unfamiliar pink post-it note on the desk:
- "She's coming."
- "Don’t go to the basement."
- "Time is almost up."
Her heart pounded. She hadn't seen these notes the day before. Something was very wrong. The old legend came back to her—the story she had heard as a newly graduated nurse. Every Christmas, the ghost of a nurse who died in the hospital in the 1950s was said to wander the wards, searching for something—or someone. Those who saw her were doomed to a terrible fate.
Day 4: December 26, 2024 – Boxing Day
The final shift. "Thank God," Shiv thought. The hospital was emptier than ever. Fewer staff, fewer patients, fewer signs of life. That tapping noise had grown louder, more insistent. It seemed to follow her everywhere she went. Then there were the slamming doors—heavy doors that would close with a crash behind her, despite the absence of any breeze.
Shiv noticed another post-it note, this one new:
"Don’t forget Room 13."
The room had been in the handover, but she hadn’t yet investigated it. Feeling a nagging sense of responsibility, Shiv made her way down the hall. The tapping sound grew louder. As she reached Room 13, she felt a sharp drop in temperature. The room was freezing, and inside, on the bed, lay patient records.
The name on the file stopped her cold: Margaret Clarke, died on Christmas Eve, 1954. Shiv’s breath caught in her throat. Margaret Clarke… her grandmother. The one her family never spoke about. She had been the black sheep of the family, eloping from her northern hometown with a man named Arthur. Shiv stared at the records in disbelief, her pulse racing.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out. In the dim glow of the emergency lighting, Shiv saw her. Margaret, her grandmother, stood at the far end of the room, her face pale and twisted in pain. She was mouthing something: "Help me."
Shiv reached out, but Margaret vanished, leaving behind one final crumpled pink post it note in Shiv’s hand:
"She’s coming for you next."
Shift's End
The shift over. Shiv, rattled but was eager to leave the hospital behind, filled out the final handover and headed toward the exit. She stepped through the creaking revolving doors, grateful to be done with yet another “dead shift”. As she walked down the high street, the snow began to fall softly again.
Out of habit, she glanced at her reflection in a shop window. Her heart nearly stopped. Her reflection wasn’t hers—it was wearing a 1950s nurse’s uniform, the same one her grandmother had worn.
Shiv turned in horror, expecting to see someone behind her, but the street was empty. She looked back at the window. The reflection hadn’t changed. It wasn’t just the uniform—it was Margaret’s face staring back at her, not hers.
In that moment, Shiv understood. She wasn’t leaving the hospital. She had never left. She was part of it now, another forgotten nurse, doomed to wander St. Gregory’s, just like her grandmother before her.
As she turned back to the hospital, the lights flickered in the distance. She was home.
Epilogue
Weeks later, a new nurse joined the team at St. Gregory’s. On her first night, as she made her rounds, she heard an eerie tapping sound echoing down the hall. Curious, she asked another nurse, "Do you hear that?"
The other nurse smiled softly. "That’s just Shiv, making her rounds."
Merry Christmas! Next, we have the Christmas Quiz.
To counter the chill of a ghost story, here's a humorous tale to warm your spirits.
A news report on Monday (in the Times), said that Brits were politely refusing to copy the American rule of hefty tipping, especially in pubs where travellers are advised by the Lonely Planet guide that it is better to offer staff “one for yourself”. This is more generous than what Tommy Cooper used to do to taxi drivers. The magician liked to tuck his tip into the cabbie’s pocket with the words “have a drink on me”. It was only later they would discover that he had given them a teabag.